In Exodus From Israel to Germany, a Young Nation’s Fissures Show

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Two Israelis, one supporting migration to Germany and one opposing it, argued in Tel Aviv. Berlin has a lower cost of living and a growing community of Israelis.CreditUriel Sinai for The New York Times

TEL AVIV — Ori Haber’s father escaped Germany during the height of the Holocaust for what would become the State of Israel. Now Mr. Haber, a 35-year-old computer technician, is part of a cadre of frustrated young Israelis clamoring to move to Berlin in what has become a contentious campaign revealing economic fissures and identity struggles in Israel’s still-adolescent society.

“I cannot see the future here,” he said, without a touch of irony at the idea that an Israeli Jew was looking for a better life in Germany. “The middle class in Israel is going down. We feel it in our flesh.”

Even his father seemed to understand, Mr. Haber said: “He has bad memories from Germany, but still he is like, ‘If you have the opportunity, go, try your luck.' ”

Israelis have for years been drawn to Berlin’s cosmopolitan flair, vibrant arts scene and advanced public transportation. There are already several places in the city where one can have authentic hummus, and there is a bimonthly Hebrew-language magazine. But a Facebook post that went viral this month, a photograph of a supermarket receipt showcasing the low price in Berlin of a beloved chocolate-pudding snack, has revived a raw debate over the meaning of outmigration.

Pundits and politicians have denounced those who want to leave as anti-Zionist traitors. The news media has been filled with diatribes against Israel’s cost of living, dissections of food costs, and reports intended to debunk the benefits of Berlin. The person behind the Facebook post, which encouraged emigration, insisted on anonymity because he said he had received death threats; in recent days, rumors have swirled that he is a shill for a German real estate concern.

Signs in Tel Aviv urged world leaders to grant work visas to Israelis, who face high living costs.CreditUriel Sinai for The New York Times

“Israel is like an extremely insecure husband who needs to be reassured in every passing moment that his wife still loves him,” said Aviad Kleinberg, a historian at Tel Aviv University who wrote in a recent column that the backlash was overblown. “We live in a state of constant existential threat. There is this feeling that we’re always just a minute away from the trains’ leaving for Auschwitz.”

That the object of desire is Berlin has only heightened emotions. “People move to where Hitler designed the Final Solution and do it happily?” Aluf Benn, editor of the daily newspaper Haaretz, said in mock horror. “The Holocaust is the most important pillar of Israeli education. Going to Berlin is like, ‘Have you learned anything?’ It’s the ultimate failure of Zionism.”

Official estimates of Israelis living in Berlin range from 5,000 to more than 15,000. Counting is complicated because German officials do not consider those with European passports outsiders, and Israel’s Central Bureau of Statistics does not record as emigrants anyone who returns to visit within a year.

Asaf Moses, 32, said there were “no Israelis around” when he moved to Berlin a decade ago, but now he could hardly walk a mile from home “without picking up some Hebrew from the sidewalk.” There are at least three Israeli restaurants in Prenzlauer Berg, a central neighborhood near a synagogue and Jewish cemetery. What began as a casual monthly book exchange over coffee has grown into a Hebrew lending library with 2,000 volumes.

“Our community is growing every day,” said Diana Reizman, 32, who moved to Berlin as a student and now owns Elfenbein, a kosher cafe and caterer. “Israel will always be the place where you go when you have nowhere else to go, but eventually you have to pay your bills.”

Sergio DellaPergola, a leading demographer, said emigration was actually lower now than at any time in Israel’s 66-year history, and also lower than in comparably developed countries. Far more people left Israel in the 1970s and 1980s, when inflation skyrocketed, he said, adding that today, 70 percent of Israel’s Jews and nearly all of its Arab citizens are native-born and thus less likely to leave.

But facts seem to matter much less than feelings.

The brouhaha began Sept. 29 with the creation of a Hebrew-language Facebook page called “Olim L’Berlin,” the very name of which some found offensive for appropriating a Hebrew word — literally, “those who go up” — usually reserved for immigrants to Israel. (There are now also “Olim L’Prague,” “Olim L’Detroit” and even “Olim L’Mars” pages.) It intensified Oct. 4 with the posting on that page of the supermarket receipt, which included pudding topped with cream for .19 euros, or 24 cents. Israel’s beloved version, under the brand name Milky, goes for three times that price (and the cup contains 40 percent less).

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Israelis gathered in Rabin Square in Tel Aviv to hear about immigration options. A backlash over migration to Berlin points to deep insecurities in a still-young country.CreditUriel Sinai for The New York Times

Milky became the symbol of a new revolution. The 25-year-old behind Olim L’Berlin, who said in a Skype interview that he had moved to Germany in May after serving five years in the Israeli Army but refused to disclose where he worked or lived, said the receipt had gotten “80,000 views in a few hours.” He also posted a lengthy guide written in 2009 by another Israeli in Berlin that offers advice on navigating bureaucracy (“German officials have a fetish for paper”), unpronounceable catchphrases (“Haftpflichtversicherung,” “Sozialversicherungsnummer,” “mitfahrgelegenheiten”) and hangover remedies (bananas, water, fructose).

“When you move to Berlin today, and I’m saying that unfortunately, you are really upgrading yourself,” the faceless Facebook user said. “I’m planning to stay here until I’ll save enough money to buy an apartment in Israel.”

Responding to a call on the Facebook page, about 100 exit-seeking Israelis gathered Tuesday night in Tel Aviv’s Rabin Square. Many expected information booths on how to emigrate — or at least free samples of Milky — but instead, they milled about sharing aspirations for an easier life.

Along with Mr. Haber, the son of the Holocaust survivor, there was a 40-year-old Ph.D. candidate in an “I ♥ Berlin” T-shirt and an underemployed graphic designer who had memorized a several-minute speech in German on why he was worthy of a work visa. Michal Shpak, who is 27 and still lives with her parents, brought her Shih Tzu, Chico, who wore a T-shirt that said in Hebrew, “I also want to go to Germany.”

“I want to live abroad for a few years and see where the wind takes me,” said Ms. Shpak, who has a degree in communications but is working as a waitress. “I love the city. The art, the environment there, the spirit, the winter, the lifestyle — every place you go, you have a little shop with artists.”

But Eliran Levy, 28, recently moved back after six months in Germany, which he did not find to be the land of Milky and honey. Employers prefer natives, or at least fluent German speakers, he said, and so do landlords. Friends were slow in the making; it was not just the weather that was colder.

“I felt very lonely there — it’s such a different culture,” Mr. Levy said. “Fulfilling life dreams is not the product of low prices at the supermarket.”

A version of this article appears in print on , on Page A4 of the New York edition with the headline: In Exodus From Israel to Germany, a Young Nation’s Fissures Show. Order Reprints | Today’s Paper | Subscribe